


A Better Day

by Hannibal_X_Will



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (these are all with the Reader not with Kylo), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comfort/Angst, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Gen, Heavy Angst, Kylo is the one doing the comforting, M/M, One Shot, POV Second Person, POV reader, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, implied depression, implied suicidal thoughts, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 02:05:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5893969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannibal_X_Will/pseuds/Hannibal_X_Will
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you feel like you're crumbling, but Kylo Ren's hand can repair as well as destroy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Better Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kylo Hux (Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson/gifts).



> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Implied/reference of depression and suicidal thoughts (not explicit).
> 
> I wrote this on request for my babe who was going through a tough day. I hope any of you reading this find it helps too <3

You feel like the world is upon your shoulders and all you want to do is to sleep. Today has been a bad day, one of the worst in a while, the kind where you just wish you hadn’t woken up that morning.

Opening the door to your apartment, you step inside and shrug off your over-sized hoodie. Hanging it on the hook, you kick off your shoes and hesitate. You listen for any noise and you hear the faint sounds filtering down from the apartment above, but your own is quiet. Frowning, you run your hands through your hair as you try to remember what day it is; whether he should be here or not.

The hallway opens up into the large living space, the only light comes through the streetlights outside, glowing in slits through the blinds pulled down over the window. You don’t bother to turn on the lamp by the sofa, instead you skirt around and into the kitchen. There, you turn on the light, grimacing at the artifice white glow. It piercing through skull and you close your eyes. You pause again, leaning against the wall, taking a deep breath.

Suddenly, you hear a noise and you jump in fright as warm, strong arms wrap around your middle. Gasping, you twist yourself around and look up into his face. His dark mop of hair is scrunched up on one side and there’s a crease on his cheek. You realise he must have been sleeping; that you woke him. Guilt clenched in your stomach but he’s smiling down at you, eyes bright.

“You’re late,” he murmurs, his naturally deep voice even rougher with sleep.

“Sorry,” you say. It’s easier to always just agree.

He frowns, tilting his head to one sight. He asks gently, “What is it?”

You pull out of his arms, feeling as if they’re stifling you. Moving across the kitchen, you raise a shaking hand to switch on the kettle – desperate for a coffee.  

“It’s been a bad one again, hasn’t it?” He’s followed you, anxious to try and comfort you. It helps, most of the time, but this time you’re not sure if he’ll be enough. There isn’t any judgement in his voice, yet you still flinch as if there was.

“I’m beginning to forget what a good day feels like.” You don’t feel like you’ve spoken, the words came out of your mouth but you don’t have a memory of forming them. He’s right there now, gently turning you around with his large hands – hands that are capable of so much destruction, but not with you.

“I’ll help you remember,” he promises, one hand slipping around your middle and tugging you in close. You almost pull away again, put your hands on his chest to stop him, but you realise suddenly how lonely you are, how much you need this – need him.

A sob claws its way up your throat and you collapse against him. Wrapping your arms tight around him, you press your face against the soft fabric of his t-shirt and you cry. He holds you as you do, not saying a word, rubbing your back. You breathe in his familiar smell and focus on the sound of his heartbeat against your ear.

The kettle boils and clicks off behind you. He slips a hand beneath your chin and tilts back your head. You blink away the tears blurring your vision as he lowers his face and brushes his lips over your wet cheeks.

He takes you hand and guides you out of the kitchen and towards the sofa. You stand there, lost for a moment as he lets go of you, turns around and turns on the lamp then settles down on the sofa. Without his hand anchoring you, you feels as if you’re gonna be swept away by the storm crashing through your head. But then he’s pulling you down and his warmth and arms are cocooning you. The storm grumbles low and deep, but you’re secure now, safe with him.

He helps you regain control of your breathing, you copy his slow and steady pace. You rest against him and bring up your legs, trying to make yourself as small as possible. He holds you close and pushes your hair out of your eyes. You begin to question if this is a dream, so you reach out and touch his face. He kisses your fingertips and give a reassuring smile. His hands are rubbing over your back and up then down your leg, soothing and grounding.

You lean in and he kisses your forehead, his lips soft but strong. The roaring in your ears is subsiding, the waves no longer breaking – your heartbeat stops pounding. His hand holds your face and you lean into his palm, closing your eyes.

“There’s always time for a day to be salvaged,” he tells you, nuzzling his face tenderly against your neck. You loop your arm around his broad shoulders, threading your fingers into his hair. You search and find his lips, kissing him and feeling that heat uncoil in your chest, slithering through your veins.

He reminds you what it is to feel; what it is to be alive. There will always be those days when you feel like you can’t stand beneath the weight of it all anymore. And that’s okay, because there will always be a better day around the corner – and those are the ones worth living for.

He is your reminder, your good day, and he’ll always be there.     

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. 
> 
> I've never written anything like this before and have no personal experience dealing with the things referenced/implied in this story, so I'm sorry if it upset anyone with how I described any of it - that was never my intention!


End file.
